Hunter
by Illusions-chan
Summary: She wants to see the world again. She wants to take a chance on life again. Hermionecentric. Hints of HGRW and a bit HPDM, along with HGBZ.


Disclaimer - Harry Potter and Co. belong to Mz. J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Hunter.**

_Inscription:_

_Ronald Billus Weasley_

_1980-1997_

_Friend, Brother, Hero_

_He'll live in our hearts forever._

Standing at the grave, Hermione Granger crossed herself, praying for the soul who laid there.

"Ginny and Neville are getting married in two months," she informed the grave. "It'll be nice, a spring wedding."

She sighed, wondering why she came back here. The ring on her finger was starting to feel like a burden, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Molly and Arthur Weasley. She couldn't even leave Fleur, whose snobbish laughter now seemed like a vision of heaven.

It had been two years, and still she wore the ring. He had given it to her as a promise before the war broke out. _'But he broke his promise, didn't he,' _her mind whispered traitorously. He had gone down a warrior, a fighter, a hero; but he had left her to pick all the pieces of his family. After losing three sons, Molly Weasley couldn't bear to part with the muggle-born witch.

"Harry is doing well. He and Dray are total hellions," she added into the silence.

Draco Malfoy, their once enemy, was now the Boy-Who-Lived's lover, and frankly, the two suited each other. Harry brought his down-to-earth ideals into Draco's extravagant life, and Draco taught Harry how to love himself. Hermione smiled fondly, thinking of how the two had just last week been arguing over how to decorate their new flat. Harry was stubbornly against Gryffindor red and Slytherin green, and Draco kept trying to paint the den deep red and the bathroom Slytherin green.

"They're arguing over paint colors," she tried again. But still nothing. The wind wisped past, as if asking _'What about you, my dear'_.

_'I'm dying,'_ she wanted to answer. _'I can't keep doing this Ron. **I want to see the world alone again. I want to take a chance on life again.'**_ But she couldn't. Not when he died for her, her and her cause.

_**'But I want to be a hunter again.'**_

Turning away, Hermione walked out of the cemetery and apparated back to her hotel room. Throwing off her jacket, she walked over to the mirror and looked in. A pale thin woman stared back at her, with dark bags under her eyes, curls frizzed out of control. She looked like a corpse.

_'But you shouldn't cage yourself for them, Bella,' _a soft voice whispered to her. She turned her head to face a memory of the past, the figure of a tall Italian, Blaise Zambini. _'You need to learn to live for yourself again. Come to Italia, I'll show you how.'_

She cocked her head, turning back to the mirror. This time she saw a young, sun kissed woman smiling and laughing widely, showing off the dimples in her cheeks. Hermione closed her eyes, turning away from the mirror. Opening them again, she stared down at the ring on her hand, and decided.

**She wanted to be a hunter again.**

* * *

Molly Weasley looked up at surprise at the snowy owl that flew in. 

"Hello girl, what's Harry got to say now? Or is this once from Hermione," she asked with a smile, remembering that the muggle-born witch didn't have an owl and usually asked for Hedwig's services. Reaching the envelope in the bird's clutches, she pulled it, opening the seal. To her surprise, there was none. Shrugging, she set the envelope down on the table, raising her eyebrows when it thunked on the table. Picking it up again, Molly shook it and something slid out, landing into the center of the table.

It was Hermione's ring.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she leaned back into the seats of the airplane. 

_'Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets it,' _a soft voice whispered in her ear. She turned to look back at the blonde who had dropped her off at the airport.

_'Thanks Dra--,' _she had tried, but he had cut her off.

_'It's about time, hon. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything.' _She had only smiled tearfully before hugging him tightly. _'Tell Zambini that if he doesn't come here for Christmas, I will curse him into an adolescent girl in puberty.' _She only laughed before running off to board.

Sighing, she turned back forward to where she was headed. Rubbing her empty finger, she took in a deep breath.

_**'To take a chance on life again.'**_

She smiled then, thinking _'Italia, here I come!'_

_**"With one light on in one room**_

_**I know you're up when I get home**_

_**With one small step upon the stair**_

_**I know your look when I get there**_

_**If you were a king up there on your throne**_

_**would you be wise enough to let me go**_

_**for this queen you think you own**_

_**Wants to be a hunter again**_

_**wants to see the world alone again**_

_**to take a chance on life again**_

_**so let me go**_

_**The unread book and painful look**_

**_the TV's on, the sound is down_**

_**One long pause**_

_**then you begin**_

_**oh look what the cat's brought in**_

_**If you were a king up there on your throne**_

_**would you be wise enough to let me go**_

_**for this queen you think you own**_

_**Wants to be a hunter again**_

_**wants to see the world alone again**_

_**to take a chance on life again**_

_**so let me go**_

_**let me leave**_

_**For the crown you've placed upon my head feels too heavy now**_

_**and I don't know what to say to you but I'll smile anyhow**_

_**and all the time I'm thinking, thinking**_

_**I want to be a hunter again**_

_**want to see the world alone again**_

_**to take a chance on life again**_

_**so let me go."**_

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(A/N): I heard this song a few days ago and decided to get it. Somehow, while listening to it, this just popped into my mind. It practically wrote itself...

**"Hunter"**, the song, belongs to **Dido**. All bolded lines in the actual story are lyrics pulled out of the song, and somewhat tweaked.

Review and Recommend.


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